Linger
by applestoalways47
Summary: "I've had relations a few times. But no one's ever stayed. You know, lingered. That's what I've missed out on—that kind of closeness." What if Lillian had known that kind of love, in a time before Masters and Johnson? Exploration of Lillian's past, slightly AU but not much.


**A/N: **Hello friends! This is my first foray into fanfiction for MOS, but I'm otherwise an old hand. If you ask me there isn't enough fanfiction for this show, especially considering its subject matter (*wink wink*). Here's an incredibly cheesy brainchild of mine about Lillian, from whose death I still have not recovered. She is such an important and lovely character, so I thought she deserved some love. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** All of this belongs to Showtime and all the corporate bigwigs I couldn't give a rat's ass about.

_I've had relations a few times. But no one's ever stayed. You know,_ lingered._ That's what I've missed out on—that kind of closeness._

Linger

The smell of mid-April rain filtered in though the open window as the Chopin record shifted to the next Nocturne. Lillian DePaul sat with a mug of tea in her hands, her hair down, the comfortable slacks and sweater a welcome respite from the starchy lab coat she had worn all week.

It was rare that she allowed herself nights like these. Ordinarily she would be in the library, or at the very least have a book propped open on her lap with countless papers littering her coffee table. However, her exams were over, and another grueling year of Harvard Med was drawing to a close. Despite the impervious exterior she tried to project, she still had her moments of anxiety, of worry, of stress. An occasional night of relaxation could be afforded to dispel those feelings, to move fiercely and determinedly to the next step the following morning.

As much as she looked forward to these scarce hours free of work, she also dreaded them. He would invariably invade her thoughts, however much she tried to prevent it. She had sworn off romance the minute she'd enrolled in college. If she aimed to become a doctor, the men surrounding her were not friends, not lovers, but competition; the partition that repressed her in her struggle toward her goal.

But then, David.

David with his soft-spoken kindness, his sharp yet unassuming intellect, his warm brown eyes. David with his way of saying her name so sweetly it sounded like honey. He was the only one who respected her pursuits, who saw her as more than some glorified nurse refusing to get off her high horse. She felt comfortable exchanging ideas with him, and the two of them could study in companionable silence for hours on end. She had never had that openness, that effortless closeness, with anyone in her life. He knew just when to provide a moment of comic relief after a particularly difficult class, but he also knew when to keep his distance and give her time to herself. They shared that passion for their work coupled with a shyness around others—a quality she had never seen in any other man.

He got under her skin in the subtlest, most unintentional way, and she hated him so much for it that she loved him. She was both vulnerable and strong, both nervous and confident, in his presence. He brought out her contradictions and revealed his own without shame or ceremony.

So much of what occurred between them was so natural that it went unspoken—including their love for each other.

Lillian squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, willing the thoughts to dissipate. He couldn't possibly love her; the rigid, freckled, gangly lone woman in a sea full of men. Even if he did, how could she risk losing the only friendship that had ever truly meant something to her? Better to put her work first and go on as they were.

She continued nursing her tea, hoping the music would consume her mind.

A knock on the door shook her from her reverie.

Who could be coming to see her, let alone at this hour? She rose from the sofa and crossed to the door, opening it just a crack—just enough to see a pair of warm brown eyes meeting hers.

David.

A sopping wet David dripping onto her doormat.

"Hi," she breathed, attempting to mask her surprise. "Is…is everything all right?"

His head hung as he let out a sigh.

"Can you tell me what's wr—"

His fingers rose to her lips, tenderly halting her words. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, opening again as she felt his forehead touch hers.

"Lillian."

Her breath hitched.

_Yes,_ she thought. _Just like honey._

That was all the coherence she could muster as she felt his breath mingle with hers. There was an electricity between them that had only ever come in flickers before, when he would lean over a book to whisper a question, or his fingers would brush hers while handing her a pen.

That energy was crackling now as he leaned forward, his arms wrapping around her as his head fell to her shoulder. The accidental brush of his lips on her neck sent a shiver through her, and she found herself tracing soothing circles on his back with one hand and threading her fingers through his hair with the other.

A sort of understanding passed between them in that moment, as well as a promise that much more had to be said.

"Would you like to come in?" Lillian asked tentatively. A gentle nod against her shoulder was his answer.

She reluctantly unwound her arms and walked to the record player. She raised her hand to lift the needle, but a soft "Could you leave it, Lillian?" caused her to freeze.

"Of course, David," she replied, turning to face him with a half-hearted smile. Crossing to the couch, she sat down again—a silent offer for him to follow suit.

He simply stared down at his hands for several moments, and she gave him his time. They had learned each other's tempos well enough by then. After a minute, he blinked and let out another sigh.

"Please, David," she prodded gently. "Tell me what's the matter."

He licked his lips nervously.

"I, um…I went out for drinks with some other students to celebrate the end of exams. Just a last-minute thing, didn't really know many of them. I only had a Coke myself. Everything was fine, I suppose…until the jokes started."

Lillian's brow furrowed as he swallowed hard.

"They kept saying things like, 'I wish I could get a peek under that lab coat,' and, 'I'll bet she slept her way to the top of the grade book.'"

Lillian shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, willing the roiling emotions away. She had grown accustomed to such comments in her years of med school, but she still felt a bit of their sting every time.

"It made me…ill," he continued. "They had no right to talk about you, or any woman, that way, especially without truly knowing you. So I…I told them so. And then I left."

Lillian's eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"You…you stood up for me?" she asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"Of course I did," he intoned, slipping his hands into hers. "You are infinitely more brilliant than any of them, and you have integrity, and passion, and drive. What you're doing—for women, for medicine, for yourself—that matters. You matter, Lillian."

He sighed and hung his head as tears streamed silently down her cheeks. He, an introverted bookworm who had never so much as raised his voice as long as she'd known him, had defended her to his peers. Her heart swelled with love for him as any doubts she'd had about his feelings for her evaporated.

She lifted a hand to his chin, gently tilting his head up so that his eyes met hers.

"Thank you," she whispered, _I love you_ hovering on her lips.

He reclaimed her hand in his, softly brushing a thumb over her knuckles.

"There's no need to thank me for speaking the truth," he murmured.

He turned her hand over, his fingers beginning to feather along the lines on her palm. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin, and her breath caught at his tenderness.

As he traced her love line, his eyes flickered to the watch on his wrist.

"Oh…Lillian, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how late it was. I…I should go."

An icy pang of fear and longing sliced through her heart as he rose to his feet.

As he turned toward the door, her hand gently grasped his forearm.

"David…please," she rasped, her eyes imploring him to stay.

He turned to her, his expression matching hers, and something in both of them gave way.

He flew to her, clutching her as tightly as she was him. Lillian had not truly let her emotions out in years for fear of judgment, but David opened that Pandora's box and held her as she cried. She cried for her parents' unspoken disapproval, for all the teasing and ridicule she had endured, for all the people she had never let into her life.

And he stroked her hair and called her darling, and she loved him for that.

"Lillian," he spoke softly against her temple, placing a faint kiss there. "Please, please look at me."

Her sobs subsided, and she did as he asked. His hand rose to cup her cheek, thumbing away the tears staining her freckled skin.

"I love you, Lillian," he whispered.

And it was then that Lillian DePaul did the bravest thing she'd done since declaring her major.

She leaned forward to capture his lips, her mouth moving in time with his. It was the sweetest of kisses, without awkwardness or ceremony. The shyness of new lovers made it brief, but no less passionate.

"And I love you, David," she whispered back. "I swore to myself I wouldn't, but…I want this with you. So much."

"This?" he asked against her lips.

She paused for breath.

"Everything," she exhaled. "I want everything with you."

Their mouths met again, this time with more fervor. Her palms framed his face as her body leaned into his, and his arms hesitantly curled around her back. They kissed for long, languid minutes as time seemed to slow to their rhythm. He grew more confident with each caress, with each stroke of his hand up and down her back, eventually deepening the kiss and gliding his tongue over hers. She gasped at the sensation, but she welcomed it with a desire she couldn't explain away with biology.

Kissing him felt so natural, so freeing, so unlike she had imagined intimacy to be. Their kiss was as effortless as their friendship, and even sweeter.

But suddenly he stopped.

She sighed at the loss of his lips on hers and looked to him for guidance. Was she doing this all wrong, though it felt so right?

His next words assuaged all her fears.

"God, Lillian, I love you so much. But…tell me if I'm going too fast. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable w—"

Her lips stopped his in a burst of passion. His respect for her touched her deeply, and she simply could not hold back. With what breath she had left, she assured him, "I said I want everything with you. I meant it."  
>He gripped her tighter as their mouths reconnected, learning and adapting, interpreting each moan and gasp. He lifted her up as her arms wound around his neck, her fingers carding through his hair.<p>

He carried her through to the bedroom, gently laying her down atop the sheets. He crawled up her body, running his hands along her curves as he pressed kisses to her collarbone, her neck, her cheeks, her eyelids, each freckle on her forehead. Lillian had never felt so loved, so worshipped, so sacred, in the whole of her life.

David laid three butterfly kisses on her lips before stuttering, "Would…would you mind if I—"

He lightly tugged at the hem of her sweater.

She smiled at his nervous sweetness and reverence for her.

"Of course, David. I…I want you to see me."

He leveled himself so that his lips barely hovered over hers.

"All of you?" he breathed, half seduction and half disbelief.

She captured his top lip between her teeth and slowly released it, causing him to shudder.

"All of me."

Her top was off in seconds, and her fingers flew over the buttons of his. They were both down to their undergarments by the time he stilled her eager hands. She pouted in frustration.

"Wait, my love," he implored. "We have time."

She reached for him then, allowing their urgency to wane with long, lazy kisses, their hands exploring newly exposed skin in silent wonder.

His mouth drifted down to her neck, lowering until his lips ghosted across the tops of her breasts.

A soft "oh" escaped her lips, and his kisses became firmer, migrating to her stomach and all the way to her ankles. His lips and hands touched every part of her, and the sensory overload produced sounds she could hardly believe were coming from her.

He made his way back up, his hands sliding beneath her to the clasp of her bra. He raised his eyebrows in a silent request, and a slight nod from her granted him permission.

He slid the garment off, along with her underwear following another nod, and sat upright, his hands settling in the curves of her waist.

She blushed under his gaze and nearly tried to cover herself, but then he spoke.

"God help me, Lillian. You're so beautiful."

Tears threatened once more on the edge of her eyelids, but she waived them away with a smile.

"David," she sighed, tugging him back down to her.

His fingers threaded through hers and pushed their hands into the bed as his mouth worshipped every inch of her breasts, travelling the now familiar path south once he had finished.

His hands still gripping hers, his head dipped between her legs. As his lips and tongue touched her center, she bolted upright in the bed.

"David!" she exclaimed, her voice and breathing ragged from the unexpected pleasure.

His features immediately shifted from aroused to contrite and concerned.

"I'm so sorry, Lillian," he sputtered. "I shouldn't have imposed. I didn't think. I just…I just couldn't help myself because…because you're too lovely."

Her breathing remained heavy as a shy smile crept across her face.

"It felt wonderful," she said quietly, as though telling a secret.

He smiled in return, venturing to ask, "Do you want more?"

She only had to nod before he delved between her thighs again, her body falling back on the bed as pleasure overpowered her. Her fingers untangled from his and anchored in his hair as her ankles locked around his neck, her moans rising in pitch and volume as he continued.

"David," she whimpered as she felt the knot in her stomach tightening. "David, please."

He looked up then, placed one final kiss to her inner thigh, shucked his boxers, and positioned himself over her. The tender love mixed with molten desire in his eyes nearly sent her over the edge.

"Lillian, is this…?"

She nodded.

The sigh that escaped him let her know that he was honored by her trust.

"It's not yours, though, is it?"

It was not accusatory, simply matter-of-fact.

He shook his head.

"But it's never felt like this," he assured her. "Never."

One hand brought his lips to hers for one more fleeting, passionate kiss as the other settled on his hip, ready to guide him.

She nodded, her gaze never leaving his, and gradually, he pushed into her—inch by painfully pleasurable inch.

A slice of anguish shot through her at first, her nails digging into his skin, and he nearly pulled back, but her hands held him fast. Her lips sought his again as they began to move together slowly, adapting and adjusting until they developed a smooth rhythm.

The give and take of their friendship translated into their lovemaking, creating an ebb and flow of passion that took them higher and higher until—

"Oh yes! David!"

"Lillian!"

She writhed beneath him in ecstasy as he finished along with her.

When she had somewhat recovered herself, she pressed frantic kisses to his neck as her limbs wrapped around him as tightly as possible. His lips returned her attentions as he slid out of her, enveloping her in his arms and sliding them both beneath the sheets.

"That was…incredible," she breathed, brushing his tousled hair back from his forehead.

"It was," he agreed, capturing her hand and placing a kiss to her palm.

"Will…" she began nervously, "will you stay with me?"

The next kiss was placed on her lips, a relief and a promise.

"Always."

And he was there when the dawn broke, and all the dawns after.

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed it! Massively cheesy, I know, but who cares? Read and review if you're so inclined, darlings. Xoxo.


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